


Late Nights (Moonlights)

by SlimeQueen



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Smut, You could say its Powerbottom donghyuk, a bunch of stupid metaphors because junhwe is stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junhwe’s never given much thought to why he and Donghyuk always stick together, but maybe he should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Nights (Moonlights)

**Author's Note:**

> okay i swear i like junhwan but i have the biggest soft spot for junhyuk so this came about  
> Let it also be known that there's a tiny (almost nonexistent) thing with slut-shaming in here, which of course i don't condone irl but for the sake of kinks lmao just know that its there. 
> 
> Please don't steal or repost my work on any other website without my permission, thank you!

Junhwe’s always been a smart kid.

He has been watching the other members for a while now, and he’s managed to figure some things out. There’s something inherent about the way Hanbin, Jiwon, and Jinhwan stick together. They’ve been friends the longest and it’s not really difficult to tell that Hanbin is the most comfortable around the other hyungs. It’s also easy to see why Chanwoo clings to Yunhyeong, who has always been the nicest to the kid.

What’s a little more complicated is why Junhwe and Donghyuk are lumped together like the last two puzzle pieces that don’t exactly fit, the result of a frustrated child gluing the unmatched parts together.

They’re the closest in age but completely opposite in personality. Junhwe is like fire, sparking and versatile, and Donghyuk is like air, flighty and cold. They don’t mix, and Junhwe doesn’t want them to, lest Donghyuk want to get burned.

That doesn’t stop Donghyuk though. He follows through on the idea, teasing and coaxing Junhwe into talking to him, into interactions that lead to hundreds of girls speculating, becoming the children with the glue.

Junhwe, on the other hand, affronts him just to be juxtapose. Where Donghyuk wants to be friends, Junhwe pushes and pushes and pushes, waiting for the second Donghyuk’s wall crumbles.

But up till now, it’s held firm. It drives Junhwe mad, how Donghyuk never replies as pettily when Junhwe brushes him off or purposefully ignores him.

And so he comes to the conclusion that he hates Donghyuk.

He’s so irritating, the way he has to look up to meet Junhwe’s eyes (it’s much cuter when it’s Jinhwan-hyung, he decides one day) and even the way Donghyuk’s eyes crinkle into crescents makes Junhwe’s stomach turn with revulsion.

But things never last long that way.

-

It’s two in the morning and Junhwe’s stomach won’t stop making dubious noises. The ceiling is so close that he could sit up, stick his hand up and brush the pads of his fingers across it, but he stays still lest he wake Hanbin in the bunk below him.

They’re supposed to be dieting before their next fan meet, meaning no late night snacks and smaller meals, along with longer hours at the gym. Junhwe has been itching for some real food all day, the craving for ramen sitting low and insistent in his belly.

His stomach rumbles insistently and Junhwe chews at his lower lip, wondering how on earth he’s supposed to wake up in five hours for dance practice if he can’t get to sleep in the first place.

Junhwe’s climbing off the bed before his mind has time to catch up to his body, padding as carefully as possible across the cold floor and trying his best not to trip over Jiwon’s scattered clothes. He reaches the door without falling flat on his face and gives himself a triumphant _Junhwe: 1, Hyungs: 0_ in his head.

The dorm should be completely dark but to his surprise, one of the dim golden lights over the dining table is on. Junhwe squints, unused to the light and runs a hand through his hair. His first instinct is to assume Yunhyeong, but then he blinks a couple times and gets a good look at the figure hunched over at the table.

Of course it’s Donghyuk, thin body drowning in a hoodie that had probably once been Junhwe or Jiwon’s, lost in the wash and stolen.

He represses the urge to groan before he realizes that Donghyuk is also eating, humming quietly to himself and stuffing his face.

Junhwe ignores his own stomach rumbling in favor of catching Donghyuk in the midst of something he’s not supposed to be doing (cheerfully putting aside that he came to the kitchen to commit the same crime) and says calmly, “Aren’t you supposed to be dieting?”

Junhwe doesn’t like to gloat (who is he kidding, of course he does) but when Donghyuk looks up, his cheeks bulging suspiciously with the remnants of whatever he’d been indulging on in the middle of the night, Junhwe can’t help the leer that stretches his mouth. As he shifts, Junhwe gets a glance at the half-full bowl of ramen in front of him.

Donghyuk impressively swallows down everything in his mouth at once. Junhwe watches the veins in his long neck strain curiously, wondering how someone with a mouth as small as Donghyuk’s fit all that in such a tiny space in the first place.

“Mind your own business.” Donghyuk says back when he sees that it’s just Junhwe and proceeds to shove more noodles in his mouth. He looks like a scolded child, his thin legs crossed in the small chair. Junhwe is way too tall to get away with that.

The clock reads two thirty when Junhwe does not mind his own business and sits down in the chair across from him and reaches out, grabbing the bowl from Donghyuk and dragging it over to himself. Donghyuk doesn’t look angry but his lips are set into a thin line, the look in his eyes unreadable. The silence is awkward even after so long, something charged and unsaid in the air between them. Junhwe carefully takes Donghyuk’s tiny hand and peels his fingers one by one off the chopsticks and takes them for himself. He tries hard not to notice the way Donghyuk’s eyes follow his hands back with an almost guilty expression on his face.

 “I made that for myself,” Donghyuk mumbles when Junhwe’s mouth is full of the first bite. It’s not bad, but Donghyuk is no master chef like Yunhyeong so the noodles are a bit undercooked. ( _“I like them that way_ ,” he’d say if Junhwe complained.)

Donghyuk pushes his glasses up his nose and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up, then slumps his upper half onto the table and props his head up on his forearms. He’s blinking too much like he always does when he’s tired, and Junhwe hates himself for picking up on his habits like this.

He stares down at the unfinished bowl and bites down on the inside of his cheek hard. “Take it. I’m not hungry.” He pushes the bowl back over to Donghyuk and stands up abruptly, walking past Donghyuk to the fridge.

“There’s another pack in the third cabinet from the sink.” Donghyuk doesn’t even look up, his voice muffled around the noodles he’s stuffing in his mouth again. Junhwe doesn’t thank him for the unsolicited advice, nor does he make another pack of ramen. Instead, he goes straight for the freezer. It’s mostly empty, but at the very back are some of those horrible little ice cream cones Junhwe hates but Hanbin and everybody else loves.

He’s craving ramen but he wouldn’t let Donghyuk have the satisfaction. He grabs one of the ice creams and sullenly tears the paper off, tossing it in the trash on the way back to the table.

As Junhwe walks to the table, he catches his eyes lingering on Donghyuk’s slender frame more than once, on his hunched back and brown hair shining dully under the lights at their dimmest setting.

When he sits back down and carefully licks away the melting chocolate, Donghyuk sits up and straightens his glasses (God, Junhwe hates when he does that, he looks so fucking pretentious,) “Can I have a bite?”

The ramen bowl is empty, he notices as he stubbornly doesn’t respond and takes a bite.

Donghyuk’s eyes follow the cone up to his mouth and his lips part unconsciously, tongue sweeping out to lick over his bottom lip. “Junhwe,” he says again, “Can I please have a bite?”

Junhwe stares at the permanent pouty set of his lips, his thin delicate features compared to Junhwe’s own broad ones. He swallows, mouth saccharinely sweet. He holds out the ice cream, stomach roiling with something that makes him think for a second that he’s going to throw up what little dinner he’d had earlier in the night.

Donghyuk’s tongue sweeps over the ice cream, tiny and pink, and suddenly Junhwe’s head hurts. He doesn’t want to see this, but he can’t drag his eyes away, so he sits as still as he can, free hand digging his nails into his thigh under the table, the hand stretched forward close to trembling as Donghyuk’s eyes drop shut and he sucks, cheeks hollowing out.

There’s white spilling over the edge of the cone, cold against Junhwe’s fingers, and Donghyuk’s mouth follows, tongue dragging almost painfully hot against the chill of the confection.

“Um,” Junhwe says, mind blank at once. Donghyuk looks up through his eyelashes, face flushing once he realizes what kind of compromising situation this is and he pulls back like his lips have been burned. “Ah,” he flushes deeply, suddenly awkward. “I guess I’ll get my own.”

There’s still sticky white clinging to his bottom lip and Junhwe’s stomach is still churning. He should tell Donghyuk, but he’s frozen, arm still outstretched over the table. There’s melted ice cream dripping in a slow path down his knuckles, and Junhwe has never felt to depraved or dirty.

“Junhwe?” Donghyuk whispers tentatively, staring at the sluggish white trail working its way down Junhwe’s hand. He stays frozen, though his mind is a slew of screaming exclamation points.

A fat drop of sugary vanilla hits the table with a splat and Junhwe jerks, startled out of his stupor.

“I’m going back to sleep,” he says roughly, standing from the chair and flinching when it makes noise dragging across the floor. Donghyuk looks too tiny and pitiful sitting there in that big hoodie, and Junhwe can’t look anymore.

He throws away the melted ice cream, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough for it to hurt and purposefully ignores the diffident uncertain look thrown his way with big confused eyes.

Donghyuk lets out a tiny noise like a whimper as Junhwe turns the doorknob to his, Hanbin, and Jiwon’s room but Junhwe grits his teeth together and shuts the door behind him, trying to block out the image of Donghyuk’s stupid watery eyes behind his stupid glasses from his mind.

He doesn’t get much sleep for the remainder of the night, but evidently Donghyuk doesn’t either because Jiwon swings an arm around him the next morning and tells him bluntly, “You look awful, by the way. Almost worse than Donghyukkie. Do you guys just like not sleep or what?”

Junhwe ducks away from under his arm and tries to control the scowl on his face, but it doesn’t work well enough if the way Hanbin walks by and laughs at him is anything to go by.

-

Junhwe should smack the complacent look right off of Donghyuk’s smug little face. It’s one in the morning when he stumbles into the kitchen, shuffling in his stupid Disney character slippers like a sleepwalker, eyes half closed and squinty behind his glasses. They open right up when he spots Junhwe at the stove though, stirring two packs of ramen.

Junhwe doesn’t know what he’d been thinking. Judging by the expression on Donghyuk’s face, he’s going to gloat, point out that Junhwe had accommodated for him willingly and without prompting.

Instead, Donghyuk smiles so bright that Junhwe looks away, hand tightening on the chopsticks he’s using to stir. “Can we have some of that kimchi Chanwoo’s mom sent him?” He leans over the pot and breathes in, pressed flush against Junhwe’s side.

It feels strangely domestic, the way Junhwe stirs and nudges him in the side, then inclines his head to the pantry where he knows the kimchi is, and Donghyuk grins even wider, pinching his side in thanks and setting off to find it. There’s a strange feeling fluttering in Junhwe’s chest as he watches Donghyuk put his hands on his hips and scan the rows of food for the jar he’s looking for.

He reaches up once he’s spotted the jar up on the highest shelf (damn Chanwoo for catching up to Junhwe in terms of height; he’s petty and never getting over it) but it’s too far up. Junhwe knows he’d be able to get it easily but stays still just for the purpose of watching Donghyuk struggle, thin shirt riding up to reveal a strip of his flat belly, eyebrows creased together in frustration.

“Junnie,” he hisses, and Junhwe has to do a double take. Donghyuk does not call him _Junnie_.

Apparently he does though, because Junhwe is responding anyways, walking over with a sigh and grabbing the kimchi, then handing it off to Donghyuk who positively beams.

Junhwe feels a little bit disoriented after that smile but he tries not to let it show (and fails promptly when he nearly pours boiling water all over his hand in the process of serving up the noodles.) Afterwards, he hands Donghyuk a steaming bowl and follows him to the couch on instinct (Yunhyeong hates it when they eat here, but Yunhyeong is asleep and neither of them would risk their own hides to get the other in trouble.)

They eat mostly in silence, Donghyuk once breaking it to sheepishly glance over at him and say, “This is better than what I made last night.”

Junhwe isn’t usually as reticent, especially not around other members, but Donghyuk has a way of turning him taciturn, so he keeps his lips pressed thin and chews his ramen without looking at the boy next to him.

Donghyuk is just as reserved now, cramming noodles into his mouth, and Junhwe does his best to ignore the dejected slump of his body. He wonders briefly if Donghyuk tries to look so sad all the time or if that’s just his natural face.

It’s not that Junhwe is remorseful about how he acts, but every time Donghyuk looks up with his sad eyes and then flits his gaze away quickly, abashed, he feels something pang in his chest.

They’ve been through too much for Junhwe not to care, even just a little bit in the farthest corner of his heart, and he’s seen a distressed upset Donghyuk cry too many times over the past couple years for it not to affect him.

That’s why when Donghyuk sniffles quietly and puts down his bowl of ramen, Junhwe’s heart plummets into his stomach. “Junhwe,” Donghyuk says quietly, “Why don’t you like me?”

Junhwe is unsure how to respond when his mind is in disarray at the unexpected question but he doesn’t have to because Donghyuk continues on, “I would say it’s because of what I did last night but you’ve been like this for a while.”

His tongue feels like lead when he tries to speak, but he manages to get out an eloquent “Um,” before Donghyuk sighs and slouches against the couch.

“Why did you make me this ramen?” He tries instead, and that, Junhwe finds, he can answer.

“I made you cry yesterday.” He doesn’t know how those two things correlate but somehow in his head it makes sense, but now Junhwe’s making him cry again, so they’re right back down to square one.

Donghyuk’s lips are twisted down into a pout that looks unfairly enchanting on him. “Do you think I’m annoying?” he asks, and Junhwe can tell from the stubborn crease between his eyebrows that he’s not going to take a half-assed answer.

The immediate thought that comes to Junhwe’s mind is _yes_ , but after one look at Donghyuk’s sincere eyes and trembling mouth, Junhwe sighs out, “No.”

His head aches and he doesn’t want to be confronted like this, but Donghyuk is tenacious once he’s found something that interests him. “You’re contradicting yourself,” he says, eyes widening in curiosity. “You say you’re not annoyed but whenever I talk you frown. And then you go and make me ramen to make up for making me cry, of all things.”

Then, after a beat of silence. “You’re not in love with me, are you Junhwe?”

The air in Junhwe’s lungs is suddenly gone, something clawing at the inside of his chest, scratching his insides raw and painful. Donghyuk’s face is solemn to the point of grim so Junhwe knows he isn’t teasing, but this is getting dangerously close to something Junhwe doesn’t want to think about—something that makes his heart ache and his stomach do backflips.

Donghyuk breathes in his soft trembling voice, “It’s okay if you are.” His hands are fisted in his shirt so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

He sounds like Junhwe feels—scared beyond anything he’s ever felt before, not when they’d lost the first survival show, not when he’d almost been kicked off the second.

“Uh,” Junhwe manages and says, “This ramen is so bland. I think I need more seasoning, don’t you?” He stands up on his long legs, flinching when thin cold fingers latch onto his wrist.

Donghyuk stares up with unwavering eyes so Junhwe can see his own fear reflected in them before he realizes that no, that’s Donghyuk’s consternation. He’s just as afraid as Junhwe is, if not more, but he’s clinging anyways.

Slowly, he lets Donghyuk pull him back down onto the couch and gently pry the bowl of ramen from his shaking fingers. They sit in silence for a second before Junhwe finds his voice and says dully, “It’s not okay.”

Donghyuk’s head flies up sharply, searching Junhwe’s face briefly before he wonders aloud, “Why?” It’s asked bluntly, childish in tone.

Frustrations and anxiety grip Junhwe’s ribcage but he stubbornly pushes it down. “Because you’re… _you_ ,” he tries to explain. “And I’m _me_. We’re not supposed to be like this. We don’t fit.” In one corner of the vastness of the universe there is Junhwe, and there is Donghyuk on the other side, millions of lightyears apart. One cannot throw off the balance of the universe just because of one selfish boy’s desires.

And god, does he want to give in to those desires. Donghyuk’s slender frame is right in front of him, skin delectably clear and smooth, his eyes sparkling like he knows something Junhwe will never find out, tempting and just out of reach even when Junhwe can feel the heat of his body on the couch next to him.

“I want to fit,” Donghyuk whispers and wraps his arms plaintively around his own midsection. “I want us to fit.”

Junhwe’s thought the same thing so many times, lying in his top bunk and listening to the way Hanbin and Jiwon’s breathing practically syncs up, wrapped up in each other in a way that makes Junhwe’s insides roil with envy. Donghyuk cups his cheek and turns his head to the side, Junhwe’s skin prickling where the heat of Donghyuk’s palm seeps into his cheek. “Please,” Donghyuk breathes, so close that Junhwe can feel it against his lips.

Before he can get out another word, Donghyuk leans in just a bit and they’re kissing, just a tentative brush of the lips, but Junhwe’s insides liquefy under the touch, warmth pooling in his bones when Donghyuk’s hand comes up, thin fingers curling gently over the curve of his jaw.

It’s hesitant and new, unexplored territory that makes Junhwe’s heart hammer in his chest and his palms sweat.

This is wrong, is Junhwe’s first instinct. It’s Donghyuk, whom he hates, whom he cannot stand, whom he is _kissing_ of all things, lips slanting together over and over. It’s a disruption to their tempestuous relationship, it’s atypical, but all things considered, it feels inherently _correct_.

Who could Junhwe kiss, if not Donghyuk? Who else would have the gall to press Junhwe back against the couch and crawl into his lap, thighs locking around the taller’s waist?

There’s something right in the way Donghyuk’s fingers card through Junhwe’s hair and hold on tight, whimpering softly into his mouth when Junhwe’s hands find their way to his hips. Junhwe has no idea how to respond, has no idea what they’re doing except that he likes it—a lot.

He hadn’t thought that it would be like this (and god, he has thought about it, again and again, even before that awful second survival show, but he’s never let it get past a distant fantasy) but somehow it’s easier than breathing, pulling Donghyuk closer by his slender waist, his shirt bunching up so Junhwe’s fingers meet supple warm skin. It’s the most natural thing in the world to part his lips and lick deep into Donghyuk’s mouth,

Donghyuk giggles breathlessly when Junhwe’s hands dig into his sides and it tickles, squirming against him in a way that makes Junhwe feel like someone just punched him in the stomach.

“See?” he says quietly right against Junhwe’s lips, “We do fit. You just have to give us a chance to find a way to make the pieces connect.”

He’s never thought of that. Just to let Donghyuk become congruous with him, finding ways to make their jagged edges meet up and form something new.

Donghyuk kisses him again then, and Junhwe can’t think at all.

-

They’ve spent so much time making out in the past week that Junhwe isn’t even surprised when Yunhyeong corners him one morning as he sleepily tries to spread butter on his toast.

If Junhwe were any more stupid than he is (haha, like that could happen. He’s surely already reached the lowest level of stupid there is) then he would ask what Yunhyeong wants. Instead, he keeps his mouth shut and continues buttering his damn toast like the good quiet kid he is.

“My ramen.” Yunhyeong says flatly. “Where is it going?” Not what Junhwe had been expecting. He’d thought this conversation would go something like “ _Why are you and Donghyuk practically dry humping on the couch every damn night, Koo Junhwe you sick fuck, we all sit there._ ”

He’s not actually mad—then again, when is Yunhyeong ever mad? But Junhwe shrugs guilelessly and lets the knife clatter into the sink. “Ask Kim Donghyuk,” he suggests, and Donghyuk throws him a sleepy glare from where he’s leaning on Jinhwan’s shoulder at the table.

Still, Donghyuk gets the last laugh because he whispers to Yunhyeong during dance practice, “I saw Junhwe eating some of your ramen the other day.” And Yunhyeong sends Junhwe his Disappointed Mother Look.

-

They’d agreed to take things slow at first, feel their way through things without rushing one another, but after the second week, even someone as perpetually oblivious as Junhwe can see the way Donghyuk’s been eyeing him.

And he’s itching to reciprocate. Fuck taking things slow, he decides one night after he’d crawled back into bed in the early hours of the morning, lips still swollen and warm from Donghyuk’s; they’re both consenting adults and there’s nothing stopping them.

Except… the five other boys they share a thin-walled apartment with.

Which is how Junhwe finds himself in front of his most trusted hyung, trying to coerce him into helping with The Mission; getting Junhwe laid.

Jinhwan is surprisingly adverse to the art of persuasion (that, or Junhwe just sucks at it) and asks him a million questions. “ _Why do you want me to take everyone out on Friday?_ ” and “ _What kind of dubious thing are you planning, Junhwe-yah_?”

“Nothing dubious here,” Junhwe swears, “All consensual, all safe.”

Jinhwan’s eyes widen when the words hit home, and he yells, jumping in his seat. “ _Jun—_ “

Junhwe has a hand pressed over his mouth in a second, hissing, “ _Hyung_. I’m an adult.”

Jinhwan pulls his hand off and furrows his eyebrows. “You’re a baby.” He states bluntly, but then realization that Junhwe has indeed become an adult sinks into his features and he moans in anguish, “My poor jaded son, seduced by an unknown siren at the tender age of eighteen,” and tries to pull Junhwe’s head to his chest—which would be easier if Junhwe wasn’t easily twice his size.

“It’s not an unknown siren,” Junhwe snorts, “It’s Donghyuk.”

Jinhwan’s mouth drops open in a surprised little circle before he snaps it shut again, shock rendering him speechless. When he finally speaks, his voice is meek. “Really?”

Junhwe nods earnestly and asks, “So? Can you do me this favor or not?”

Jinhwan contemplates for a second. Then, throwing him a sly look, “Will you tell me if his is smaller than mine?”

-

The next part in his plan is much less difficult.

Donghyuk looks faintly dumbfounded when Junhwe tells him one night that he’s okay with going further than they have been, but he bounces back easily. “Okay.” He says, just like that.

And Junhwe thinks, his fate has been set in stone.

-

All the planning he’d been doing could never have prepared him for the actual event though—nothing stops the angry beehive of nerves in the pit of his stomach come Friday night and Jinhwan drags everyone out the door, leaving Junhwe by himself in the silence of the dorm.

Donghyuk had disappeared quietly in the midst of everyone getting ready with one unreadable look Junhwe’s way.

Junhwe sits in his room for much longer than necessary trying to calm himself down, will his palms to stop sweating and his throat feeling like sandpaper. A text from Jinhwan makes his phone ding, and when he opens it, it’s a winky face along with “ _you have till 11. Don’t forget the lube._ ”

Finally, when he deems his hands not-disgusting and sweaty, he stands and goes to Donghyuk’s room, trying not to take the way the door creaks ominously on his way in as a sign of misfortune.

Sure, Junhwe’s cocky in most things he does, but faced with Donghyuk writhing on the mattress, his fingers shoved deep inside himself, Junhwe’s knees go weak and confidence dissolves like sugar in water. The worst part of it is that Donghyuk’s really into it too, one hand tugging loosely around his dick, his eyes shut tight and lips parted to let out every little _ah ah ah_. Junhwe makes a strangled sounding noise in his throat.

Donghyuk’s eyes slit open, finding Junhwe like he’s been fine-tuned to (and maybe he has, that’s why he always knows how to find Junhwe when the others can’t) and says in a high broken voice, “ _Junhwe_ ,” the sound trembling in the air between them.

It’s a beckon, he realizes after the longest second of his life. Donghyuk is expecting him to move, but Junhwe’s feet feel superglued to the floor.

The first thing Junhwe thinks is _where did Donghyuk get lube?_ Did he buy it himself? Did he borrow some from Hanbin and Jiwon? (God knows they’d have it.)

The second thing Junhwe thinks is that he should probably make his body move so Donghyuk doesn’t think he’s gone into shock or is about to spontaneously combust—although, that doesn’t seem too far a stretch for him right now.

Junhwe finally gathers his bearings and says helplessly, “I’ve never—I don’t know—“ but Donghyuk is shaking his head, sitting up and panting softly, flushed a soft shade of pink from the tips of his ears to right beyond his clavicle.

“It’s okay,” he says again, for probably the thousandth time since that first night Junhwe made him ramen, “I know what I’m doing.” He reaches out and takes Junhwe’s hand and Junhwe tries not to think about how his fingers are covered in lubricant, that his will also probably be in a couple seconds. Suddenly he’s losing his balance and falling forward onto the bed, landing with an ungraceful yelp that Donghyuk laughs quietly at.

“Will you put those pretty hands in me now?” he says impatiently. Junhwe has never consciously thought about his own hands as _pretty_ , but when Donghyuk’s own skinny fingers press to his, palm to palm, he kind of understands.

Junhwe’s hands are bigger than his, fingers long and slender but strong, and Junhwe sees Donghyuk’s eyes run down the length of his arm, tracing the veins in his forearm with his stare. Donghyuk licks his lips and then whispers, “There’s lube over there.” His gaze doesn’t falter from Junhwe once as he points towards the nightstand.

Junhwe’s body moves on impulse, grabbing the open bottle of lube and pouring some of it onto his hand, grimacing once he realizes how runny it is, flooding his palm and running over. “At least we’ll have enough,” Junhwe says deftly when Donghyuk looks like he’s about to laugh again.

“How do you want me?” Donghyuk asks then, suddenly turning demure with a blush flooding across his cheeks. Never in Junhwe’s eighteen short years of life did he ever think he was going to hear Kim Donghyuk of all people say something like that.

“Uh,” Junhwe says rather intelligently before Donghyuk is on his back, legs spread invitingly. That answers that question.

Junhwe takes a nanosecond to take in Donghyuk’s cock, curved towards his stomach (it is smaller than Jinhwan’s, the still sane part of his brain supplies helpfully) and his hole, pink and glistening with lube.  “One at a time.” Donghyuk says, one of his arms thrown over his face. It’s not enough to cover the slightly embarrassed blush making him redden all the way down to his delicate collarbones though.

Junhwe _has_ done this before, although never with another guy, so he’s not completely clueless, but he doesn’t know what Donghyuk’s body can take versus anyone he’s fooled around with before. Willing his nervousness down again, Junhwe carefully strokes a finger around Donghyuk’s twitching entrance and pushes in, waiting for Donghyuk to tell him it hurts or he’s doing something wrong.

That moment never comes though, just Donghyuk sighing quiet and content, body rolling up to meet Junhwe’s finger before he murmurs, “You can start with two if you want.”

There’s an obscene squelching noise when Junhwe’s second finger slides in, and Donghyuk’s back arches off the bed, the muscles in his thighs flexing and then relaxing again. Junhwe remembers what the multiple internet searches had let him know and crooks his fingers, running the pads of them against Donghyuk’s walls, grinning triumphantly when Donghyuk abruptly yelps, his hips rolling down automatically. “ _Where_ did you learn that?” he demands and drags Junhwe down by the hair to attach their mouths sloppily.

Junhwe doesn’t want to say _I obsessively researched “how to finger someone anally” on the internet_ , so he grins against Donghyuk’s mouth. “Tell me you like me fingerfucking you.” He half jokes in a moment of boldness.

To his complete surprise, Donghyuk whines out, “I love you fingerfucking me, god, wanna be a good slut just for you, Junnie.”

What the fuck.

Junhwe’s lungs feel like they’ve just collapsed, imploded, been sucked into a vortex. Donghyuk is still rambling under his breath, mumbling “ _want your cock, want to be good for you”_ but Junhwe can’t even think about what all this _means_ , just that he needs to reciprocate as soon as possible.

A rush of confidence comes over him at the sight of Donghyuk’s face, his eyes screwed shut, mouth half open in a gasp, senselessly fucking himself back on Junhwe’s fingers, and he realizes he can do this, _he can totally do this_.

Every horrible scripted porn scene he’s seen in his life comes to mind, and there’s a plethora of phrases on the tip of his tongue, mainly “ _beg for it_ ” and _“how bad do you want my cock?”_ But Junhwe doesn’t know what exactly is acceptable to he settles for “You’re so hot when you talk like that.”

Extraordinarily, Donghyuk doesn’t abruptly stop and throw him off the bed. Instead, a tiny self-satisfied smile curls onto his mouth and he curls his hand around Junhwe’s cheek, pulling him down to press their mouths together in a way that feels altogether filthy and thrilling.

Donghyuk is surprisingly close to coming, he realizes after a couple seconds of feeling the older boy tremble and struggle to keep himself in check.  Finally, when Donghyuk is practically shuddering, clenching and unclenching around Junhwe’s curling fingers in a way that feels completely explicit, he looks up with scarily calm eyes and says, “Get on your back. I’m going to ride you.”

Junhwe’s spine seems to have liquefied at the words, but he manages to get his body to move, flat against Donghyuk’s stupid Rilakkuma blanket. His cock strains against the material of his shorts, and if he had the time he’d be embarrassed, but Donghyuk crawls over him and presses a hand between his legs, eyes shimmering in the dim lights. There’s a second where Donghyuk just stares, his eyes half closed, lips parted in anticipation, and then his shorts are being dragged down his legs.

They’ve seen each other naked before—they all have, but never in this kind of context. Junhwe can’t help the tiny bolt of apprehensiveness that runs through him as his pants get pulled down his legs and his shirt is tossed to the side. Junhwe’s dick is painfully hard, throbbing against Donghyuk’s palm when he presses his hand against it, and Junhwe is close to losing it. Donghyuk looks too fucking good dropping his head down and flicking his tongue out over the head of Junhwe’s cock, then pausing for a second only to sink his mouth down a second later.

Junhwe chokes on his own saliva watching Donghyuk’s eyebrows furrow in concentration, eyes teary and throat straining, but taking it anyways, wet hot mouth inching down slowly. Were he any more composed, he’d ask where Donghyuk learned to suck dick, because there’s no way anyone in their group can do it like this (except Hanbin. Junhwe has learned the hard way never to put anything past Hanbin.)

Then Donghyuk’s hands are reaching up, curling around Junhwe’s wrist and pulling it down so the younger can fist his hand through his soft hair. Junhwe’s stomach swoops, his fingers threading through carefully. He tentatively pulls a little at Donghyuk’s hair and the older boy jerks, moaning muffled and ragged around Junhwe’s cock.

Junhwe doesn’t know how he holds it together, but he manages until Donghyuk pops off and his swollen spit-slicked lips stretch into a grin. “Okay,” he says, and Junhwe doesn’t know what to say so he echoes it back, albeit in a more bewildered way. Donghyuk leans over, his lean body stretching as he grabs one of the condoms on the nightstand and rips into it, rolling it down Junhwe’s dick in a way that feels experienced.

Before Junhwe can open his mouth and humiliate himself further, Donghyuk is sitting in his lap, grinding down slow and filthy against his cock. God, he’s never opening his mouth again if it means Donghyuk will keep doing that.

“Hold your dick for me,” Donghyuk whispers. Junhwe has no idea what he means at first, but when it hits him, he scrambles to follow the direction, fisting his cock and holding it as Donghyuk eases himself down.

Junhwe wonders vaguely if this is what a supernova is like—there are certainly stars exploding behind his eyes as Donghyuk whines and rocks down onto him, taking all of him like a fucking pro. It’s slow at first, tentative movements of Donghyuk’s hips that make Junhwe ache, but then he’s building up a rhythm, tipping his head back so Junhwe can see the long column of his throat, the narrow end of his chin, the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows thickly.

Donghyuk is completely self-indulgent, fucking back on Junhwe’s dick in a way that makes Junhwe want to ask where he learned this, how to take and take and take and in return, give until Junhwe thinks every part of his being is wound tight inside him, ready to explode at any moment.

The frenetic movement of their bodies causes the bedframe to hit the wall several times in quick succession, and Junhwe takes a second to thank god that he had been smart enough to tell Jinhwan to take everyone out tonight before he can’t think at all because the way Donghyuk feels around him is enough to make his mind blank out.

Donghyuk’s whole body is trembling, the muscles in his thighs twitching as he plants his hands on Junhwe’s chest and rocks back against him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He clenches and unclenches periodically around Junhwe’s cock, sinking down almost unbearably hot.

His voice is breathy and broken, moaning whenever he lets his hips fall a little too far, brushing something inside him that has his body shaking, his nails digging into Junhwe’s skin, borderline painful. Everything is sloppy and disorienting and there’s a supernova of sensation inside Junhwe, coaxing him dangerously close every time Donghyuk sinks down with a groan. “Fuck me, come on Junhwe, harder,” he says like some horribly cheesy adult movie, but from his mouth it sounds unfairly hot.

Junhwe fucks up against him with shallow thrusts, hands wrapped around Donghyuk’s waist to hold him steady, and Donghyuk ruts down, matching him thrust for thrust, flushed and gasping and moaning. It’s too much, and Junhwe knows that he’s going to come way to fucking soon because Donghyuk is just that good, his ass slapping Junhwe’s hips with the filthy noise of skin against skin every time he drops down, half grinding half bouncing in Junhwe’s lap.

Junhwe comes in a series of short raspy gasps, everything falling apart under Donghyuk’s thin clever hands as his mind spirals into disarray, filled with nothing but blank white and stomach churning pleasure.

He takes a second to revel in Donghyuk still halfheartedly grinding on his oversensitive cock, both their chests heaving as he sucks in deep breath after breath in an attempt to steady his breathing. Donghyuk’s dick is hard, pressed between him and Junhwe’s abdomen, and it’s purely impulsive when Junhwe thinks that he should probably get him off too.

Donghyuk gasps and arches off him when Junhwe’s fingers wrap around his sensitive cock, his whole body shuddering at the touch. He clings, his nails stinging where they dig deep crescent marks into Junhwe’s bicep and makes a noise just short of a sob. He moans, short and uneven every time Junhwe drags his hand down and then back up.

“Are you going to come?” Junhwe asks, more curious than anything, when Donghyuk does just that, his body going rigid against Junhwe’s for a second before he slumps down with a soft whimper, his cock spurting across Junhwe’s sternum. His hips roll slowly, riding his orgasm out against Junhwe.

When Donghyuk looks down at him, he has stars in his eyes, the whole Milky Way on display in his pupils. He ducks down and kisses Junhwe, sloppy and tired and satisfied.

-

Donghyuk’s legs swing back and forth off the edge of the counter endearingly, his shorts riding up his thighs. He waits impatiently for the ramen Junhwe is stirring, blinking sleep out of his eyes, one hand planted on the counter behind him, the other pressed flat against his empty stomach.

“Fuck dieting,” he announces to no one in particular. “I think we look great.”

Junhwe reaches over and pinches one of his fleshy thighs, grinning when Donghyuk yelps and kicks him. “Speak for yourself,” he says. Donghyuk’s always been on the slender side, just right for idol life. Junhwe on the other hand, has been working on those abs forever (they’re not happening, as far as he’s concerned.)

Donghyuk sticks his tongue out and says childishly, “Well _I_ think you look great, so there.”

Junhwe pitches his voice higher and imitates, “Well _I_ think we’re going to wake all the hyungs up if you don’t talk quieter, so there.” It earns him a glower, but when he smiles, Donghyuk’s frown melts off as well.

They share a bowl of ramen on the floor of the living room, Donghyuk’s legs swung over Junhwe’s and then they lie around on the cool wood floor and stare out the open curtains into the dark smoggy Seoul sky, fingers intertwined.

They don’t exactly fit, Junhwe thinks, but they’ll get there.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


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